The little AU: Summer Dreams: Equinox Rising
The little AU: Summer Dreams: Equinox Rising
slashfairy
G
~~
"It's done, and I shaved it off!" Orlando announces over the phone, full of excitement and exhaustion in equal parts. "And I'm ok," he adds, thinking that perhaps the news reports of some fool drunks throwing bottles into the group of fans outside the theatre on the last night's signing after the last performance of In Celebration might have reached Viggo's ears, Karl's ears.
Viggo sits back against the hotel bed's headboard, maté and some whiskey at hand, a plate of food unfinished, a hand-rolled cigarette equally unfinished. He looks at the pile of papers next to him, reviews and commentaries, that David'd had delivered to his room In case you decide to see how we did. No pressure, D. Some are read, some are not. Almost all are salutary and excited. They fill no hole in his heart, light no gaping blackness in his thoughts, though.
Only home will do that. Home and his men.
Karl laughs- they're on conference call, again, as always (as it seems lately)- at the image of Orlando coming out bare-faced and unsheepishly back to himself, but the laugh is gentle and soothing because he knows that what they each, all, need right now is each other, and they can't have that. Not right now.
Right now is Real Life: Karl filming, back and forth between NZ and New Orleans, Hunter and work. Real life is Viggo in Canada, New York, studios, red-carpeted flashbulbed madness, airports, airplanes. Real life is Orlando negotiating a life without something planned, something on the horizon, for the first time in nearly 10 years- only himself, and who he is, what he wants.
Which is to be with his men. His man, his men. His loves. To be himself, alone, and calm and quiet.
Which is what they each want, all want.
The Earth spins on its axis, bringing night to day, day to night, and moves around the Sun in its orbit, changing, daily, when sunrise and sunset occur. Soon it will be the Autumnal Equinox in the northern hemisphere, the Spring Equinox in the southern; the year divided again, and none of them sure what it will bring except, as often as they can make it happen, chances to be together.
Until then they're laughing about porn 'taches, muddling through anecdotes about what they've been doing, and talking softly, gently, about love and loving and loving each other. And the moon rises, and time moves on.
slashfairy
G
~~
"It's done, and I shaved it off!" Orlando announces over the phone, full of excitement and exhaustion in equal parts. "And I'm ok," he adds, thinking that perhaps the news reports of some fool drunks throwing bottles into the group of fans outside the theatre on the last night's signing after the last performance of In Celebration might have reached Viggo's ears, Karl's ears.
Viggo sits back against the hotel bed's headboard, maté and some whiskey at hand, a plate of food unfinished, a hand-rolled cigarette equally unfinished. He looks at the pile of papers next to him, reviews and commentaries, that David'd had delivered to his room In case you decide to see how we did. No pressure, D. Some are read, some are not. Almost all are salutary and excited. They fill no hole in his heart, light no gaping blackness in his thoughts, though.
Only home will do that. Home and his men.
Karl laughs- they're on conference call, again, as always (as it seems lately)- at the image of Orlando coming out bare-faced and unsheepishly back to himself, but the laugh is gentle and soothing because he knows that what they each, all, need right now is each other, and they can't have that. Not right now.
Right now is Real Life: Karl filming, back and forth between NZ and New Orleans, Hunter and work. Real life is Viggo in Canada, New York, studios, red-carpeted flashbulbed madness, airports, airplanes. Real life is Orlando negotiating a life without something planned, something on the horizon, for the first time in nearly 10 years- only himself, and who he is, what he wants.
Which is to be with his men. His man, his men. His loves. To be himself, alone, and calm and quiet.
Which is what they each want, all want.
The Earth spins on its axis, bringing night to day, day to night, and moves around the Sun in its orbit, changing, daily, when sunrise and sunset occur. Soon it will be the Autumnal Equinox in the northern hemisphere, the Spring Equinox in the southern; the year divided again, and none of them sure what it will bring except, as often as they can make it happen, chances to be together.
Until then they're laughing about porn 'taches, muddling through anecdotes about what they've been doing, and talking softly, gently, about love and loving and loving each other. And the moon rises, and time moves on.